


Past and present (or: Friendship and romance at the only vape shop in Dale)

by crushing83



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate - Vape Shop, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barduil Secret Santa, Dancer Thranduil, Friends to Lovers, Gift Exchange, Gift Fic, M/M, Modern AU, Not Beta Read, dancer Legolas, stop smoking start vaping, time jumps, vape shop AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:32:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crushing83/pseuds/crushing83
Summary: Glimpses into the business and life Bard and Thranduil have built together.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maricharde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maricharde/gifts).



> My new rule will be "no gift exchanges after NaNoWriMo." But, luckily, I was able to scrape something together this time around. I've included linked text for some of the terms and items discussed, hopefully those will help it make sense. I tried to keep to the guidelines I was given in my prompt, but there was some wiggle-room and my brain took this story in a direction I hadn't expected. 
> 
> Happy holidays, maricharde!

When his morning started with a pale, panicked face at his shopfront's doors, Bard knew from experience it would be an interesting day. Instead of moaning about not getting to have a moment of peace and quiet, he left his coffee on the dash of his truck and pulled his keys from the ashtray---relegated to more of a coin-tray than anything else since he quit smoking and picked up vaping---and stepped out into the chilly mountain air with a smile on his face. 

"Hey, Billy," Bard said, his voice as pleasant as he could make it. "Out of juice?"

"I was up all night studying, didn't realise I vaped so much---" 

"We'll get you all set up so you can get back to it," Bard said when Billy stopped talking and waved his hands around excitedly. He craned his neck and looked over his shoulder while slipping his key into the first lock, while asking, "How much longer til midterms are over?" 

Billy's answer lasted as long as it took for Bard to unlock the other deadbolts and open the door. Midterms were another week, but if he counted the two papers he still had to write they'd be another two weeks. Bard tried to follow along as he talked about the subject of the paper he was writing---the perception of the human body in the Matrix movies and how it compares to the major historical attitudes towards the body that lead to the medical arts of today---but Bard hadn't seen the movies so all he could do was listen and nod as Billy rambled through a non-chronological discussion of anatomy and normalization and humours. 

Bard turned on the lights to the small shop and booted up the tablet computer that acted as the cash register. Billy's ramble has trailed to quiet, exhausted mumbles about a need to add something about Foucault to his outline as he nears [the bottles of e-juice on the shelves](http://media.cylex-usa.com/companies/2541/2126/images/-1235094846-Lincolns-premier-vapor-shop-with-over-30-e-liquid-brands-to-choose-from-_21112_large.jpg) closest to the register and display counter; his inattention gives Bard a few minutes to pull off his knitted cap and down-filled vest and to chuck them both in a half-empty box hidden from the customers' eyes. 

"What are you in the mood for, Billy?" Bard asked. 

He was trying not to be impatient, but he wanted his coffee back in his hands. He wanted to sit outside, enjoy a vape with the last of his cream-and-sugar coffee, and he wanted Billy to go home and get some much-needed sleep---or at least go home and continue working on his paper so he *could* get some sleep. 

"Sweet?" 

It was difficult to smother his groan, but Bard succeeded. Apart from a few sour recipes---and a couple that were bakery-and-nuts profiles, so there wasn't any fruit or candy hints in them---all of his juices, from all the brands they carried, were sweet. Some of them were too sweet, thanks to companies and mixers discovering they could add more sucralose or ethyl maltol to mask any weaknesses in the flavour profile and still have it sell if the labels were pretty enough. Over the last couple of years, Bard tried to weed out the worst offenders from his list of distributors, finding better alternatives for his customers through research and taste-testing; he had cultivated a strong collection of juices and he was proud of it. 

"What do you look forward to the most in your Momma's care packages?" Bard asked. 

Billy stopped looking at the rows of glass dropper bottles, turning his wide-eyed, too caffienated, too tired stare onto Bard. "I... she makes these marshmallow squares. Real chocolate poured over them, with some sort of ground graham cracker and... and...---" 

"Peanut butter?" Bard asked. 

Billy nodded, eyes seeming to grow even wider. 

Bard grinned. He wasn't supposed to let customers vape in his shop, but this was early and he doubted any lawmakers were going to show up. Billy looked surprised as Bard pulled a bottle off the shelf featuring the only e-juice line manufactured in Dale, as he dripped some of the liquid into [the atomizer attached to a regulated mod](http://68.media.tumblr.com/c4bd989a8c50fcd5770102ba1188a370/tumblr_o5qny6l6e81v5df5fo1_500.jpg). 

"Don't tell anyone," Bard said. 

He waited until Billy nodded before handing over the device. Billy put the tip of the atomizer to his lips as he pushed down on the firing button. He inhaled. 

And then he moaned. 

After exhaling a frothy cloud of white vapour, Bard's young customer started waxing poetically about how the juice tasted almost exactly like those squares in his care packages with lots of oh-my-god-I-can't-believe-it's and that-is-comfort-food-in-vape-form's thrown in between his vocal remembering of the last package a week before midterms started. Bard chuckled and plucked a bottle of six milligram-per-millilitre and a bottle of three milligram-per-millilitre juice in both flavours. He also snagged a bottle of a key lime juice he knew would work as a palette cleanser; it was from a different line, a cheaper line, so Bard made the executive decision to throw it in for free. Billy chose [two pre-made coils](https://img.fasttechcdn.com/201/2010102/2010102-7.jpg), too, both stainless steel and organic cotton, and Bard tucked the extra juice into the bag before Billy could notice it. 

As he worked, he caught sight of silver eyes and a petal-pink smirk lingering in the doorway to the kitchen---or the mixing room, as his business partner called it---and he smiled over Billy's head. 

Thranduil only dealt with customers when he absolutely had to, but every once and a while, Bard would insist someone try his line of juice and if Thranduil was in the back room---and paying attention---he would sneak out to see if the recipe was met with praise or disdain. 

Billy fell quiet as they exchanged payment for goods. Bard wanted to encourage him, wanted to say something along the lines of "Son, get a good night's sleep and this paper will look easier," but he didn't know Billy more than what was required to sell him e-juice and the occasional piece of gear. Besides, he had his own children to worry about---even though they were with their mother until the end of the school term. 

After sending Billy back out into the world, fortified with nicotine and a friendly smile, Bard meant to head to his truck for his probably-cold coffee. He stepped out from behind the counter as Thranduil emerged from his hiding place, all long and lean and more graceful than Bard had ever felt in his whole life. 

"I snuck out and grabbed this for you," Thranduil said. "Locked your behemouth's doors. And toasted you---" he held his hand up, a plate clutched in it "---this." 

"My savior," Bard all-but-moaned after seeing the buttered and toasted bagel. 

"When you're finished eating, I have a new recipe for you to test," Thranduil said. 

With a slice of his bagel in hand, Bard smirked. "Is this one of mine or one of the shops?" 

"One of yours," Thranduil replied. "I'm getting close." 

As his smirk stretched into a grin, Bard said, "We'll see."

&&&&&&

_"Ow!"_

_Thranduil paid Bard's protest (complaint) little-to-no mind as he rearranged his limbs after flopping down on the bed (and the man). He settled his head onto Bard's shoulder and draped one arm around Bard's middle while the other allowed for its hand to cup the back of Bard's head._

_"I'm a catch, Bard," Thranduil whined. "I may be in my forties---but I am limber. I danced with the best companies, under the best directors, and I can still perform the rigourous exercises of those days!"_

_Bard sighed. He pressed his cheek to to the top of Thranduil's head. "Bad date?" he asked, voice both rougher and softer than usual._

_"Bad date," Thranduil echoed. He nodded and tucked his face into Bard's neck._

_"You are a catch," Bard agreed. The tight feeling in his chest---the one he felt every time Thranduil tried to go out with someone, or anyone, as it seemed---returned. But, he knew what he had to do and he steeled himself against the ache to continue speaking. "You are smart and savvy and you appreciate the finer things in life. You have an exceptional palate. You are a polyglot. You raised a son by yourself. And you are a beautiful dancer," he murmured. "And the person you met tonight was an idiot for not seeing even one tenth of your worth."_

_The list changed, the fraction changed, but the meaning behind Bard's words never did. It was all Bard could share with him---his heart, his feelings---because he knew it wasn't enough for Thranduil. They'd go on being friends as long as they could; Bard wanted the artist in his life for as long as possible, but he knew his limitations and knew where the line between them was drawn._

_He tucked his nose into Thranduil's hair. Vanilla met almond met a hint of spice. He smiled. He smiled more when Thranduil curled his body into Bard's and squeezed him closer._

_"Can we order take out later?" Thranduil asked._

_"So you can spend tomorrow working out so hard you can't walk next week?" Bard asked. "No. But, I will make you a super-loaded baked potato tonight. Maybe two."_

_"With the good cheese?"_

_Bard chuckled. "Yeah. And bacon. And onions. And salsa and sour cream and---"_

_"Perfect," Thranduil murmured._

_Bard agreed, but he didn't think it was the potato recipe that was perfect._

&&&&&&

"So, you liked the lemon and raspberry cream combo?" Thranduil asked, pen balanced between his thumb and index finger as he leaned against the main counter in the shop.

Bard smiled. "Yep." 

"But?" 

"I like it. It's good with tea. It's good for a treat," he said, shrugging. 

"But..." 

With another little shrug, Bard said, "It's too rich to vape all day. For me, anyway." 

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Bard. It's not real food... it's not spoiling yourself or your appetite---" 

"I'm a simple country boy, Thran," Bard said as he hauled a box of atomizers and batteries and whatever else arrived in the shipment he picked up at the post office. He pulled out a knife and sliced the tape on the top of the box. "I have simple tastes." 

"But you say the one-flavour mixes are too simple!" Thranduil huffed. "You even called the coffee one dull." 

"Well, it was. Just coffee flavouring, no nothing in it," Bard said. 

Thranduil made a couple of notes in his book. When he was working, he was rarely without his book; it contained his recipes, his works-in-progress, and his tasting notes, and once it no longer had blank pages it would be added to the collection of full books and a new one would be in Thranduil's long, lean hands. 

"What did you think of the maple banana cream?" 

"So good," Bard replied. He smiled at Thranduil as he felt around in the box and pulled out a bag of rubbery [O-rings](https://img.fasttechcdn.com/541/5411100/5411100-5.jpg) in various sizes and colours. "Hey, look, they remembered this time," he added, holding up the bag of rings. "You should bring your [Boreas](https://www.fasttech.com/product/4741900-authentic-augvape-boreas-rta-rebuildable-tank) in tomorrow. I should be able to fix the leak in its tank with these." 

Thranduil nodded. His eyebrows twitched, twice, and then his face blanked. Bard did his best to hide his amusement---though he knew he sucked at that---and turned his attention to the packaged atomizers along one side of the box. 

"Got more of the [Avocados](https://www.fasttech.com/product/3975000-authentic-geekvape-avocado-rta-rebuildable-tank)," he said, holding up one of the small boxes. "And a few more [Pharoahs](https://www.eciggity.com/pharaoh-dripper-tank-by-digiflavor-rip-trippers/)." 

"Bard." 

Unable to hold back his chuckle, Bard laughed into the crate of supplies before looking at his friend and business partner. "It was a good mix of breakfast and dessert. Tasted like bananas drizzled in cream and brown sugar." 

"But?" 

"Very rich," he said, shrugging. "But, I do like it with my coffee in the morning." 

"You're impossible," Thranduil muttered, while making a few notes in his book. 

Bard snorted. "I just don't like vaping one thing all day," he said. "It's fine. I don't mind changing cotton or juggling atomizers. I'm used to it." 

Thranduil scowled. "I am going to find your ADV." 

With a smile, Bard turned back to his work. He knew there would be a few more questions before Thranduil dramatically marched back to his mixing area; there were always a few more questions but Bard didn't mind answering them. While Thranduil had other recipes on the go, one of his long-term challenges had been to find Bard's ADV---or "all day vape"---and even though Bard was sure he didn't have one, Thranduil had yet to give up. 

He freed the atomizers from the wrapping that held the little boxes together, then made sure to scan each barcode into his tablet computer for their inventory system. After that, he put some on a shelf where customers could see them; the others went into a closet he used for overflow stock. The O-rings, not for sale but for repairs as they arrived, went into Bard's kit of equipment and supplies---tucked between a couple of drill bits and a box of tiny hex screws---as did a set of allan keys with better grips on their longer arms. 

When he put the battery wrappers in the mason jar he kept on the counter, so any customer could grab one or two if their batteries needed to be rewrapped to be safe to use, he heard Thranduil muttering under his breath and scribbling loudly. 

"Thran---" 

"Fruit or cake?" 

"Cake," Bard admitted. 

"Custard or frosting?" Thranduil asked. 

Bard smiled. "Custard." 

"You are so weird," Thranduil said on a sigh. "But, I will not let your strange tastes defeat me." 

Bard chuckled. "Want to help me with these eighteen-six-fifties?" he said, holding up a package of [batteries](http://vaping360.com/top-5-18650-batteries-for-vaping/). "We can put them in the chargers and then go outside and have a vape." 

"Will you---" 

"I'll taste anything you want," Bard assured him. 

Thranduil smirked and closed his notebook. "Deal."

&&&&&&

_Long blond hair, the same graceful stride, square of his shoulders, and rotation of his hips... he had to be Legolas. Or a hallucination of Thranduil when he was much younger._

_Bard shook his head slightly, not in disagreement to anything in particular but to give his brain a little rattle. The figure in his doorway didn't move much, only tilting his head slightly to one side as he looked around._

_"Your father is through the side door there," he said after a moment and a small smile._

_"I don't want to interrupt him," Legolas said. He adjusted the rucksack's strap over his shoulder. Walking towards the counter, he continued looking around. "I... it was an unexpected holiday."_

_Even though his own children didn't live with him through the majority of the year, he was familiar enough with their antics and quirks to be able to detect when a response was just the tip of a metaphorical iceberg. Since he didn't know Legolas---at all, except as the energetic boy and skilled dancer that Thranduil described in his stories---he kept his opinion and offer of help to himself._

_"He's been here a lot lately," Legolas said._

_"I told him he could mix at home, but... I think he likes having a sterile space, separate from everything," Bard said in response._

_Legolas' pale lips curved into a bit of a smile. "Possibly," he commented, seeming rather guarded for the exuberant child Thranduil described._

_And then, Legolas shrugged and leaned his hip against the counter; his expression transformed from one of caution and defensiveness to one of curiosity and delight. Bard remembered that look, from when he and Thranduil met, as they started their business venture and friendship almost at the same time; the change was jarring, but familiar, as Thranduil's moods could change at high speeds._

_"When my father said he quit smoking, I did not believe him," Legolas said quietly. "Old habits are hard to break. He started before he finished at the Academy._

_"Some dancers still use it as a way to... control themselves. In terms of---"_

_Legolas stopped talking and his hands made a brief and aborted gesture as he tried to finish his sentence._

_"Can't eat if your mouth's already busy?" Bard suggested._

_Nodding, Legolas grimaced. Bard said, "I take it, that's not your attitude?"_

_"My father taught me to be better," Legolas said. He smirked a smirk so like Thranduil's that it almost took Bard's breath away. "He promised the punishment would be severe if he ever caught me smoking."_

_Bard chuckled. "Yeah, I made my kids a similar promise."_

_"You have children?" Legolas asked._

_"They're living with their mother right now. In Laketown. But, they'll be in Dale for the summer," Bard said, nodding as he thought about his three little heartbreakers. Video calls and text messages only get him past missing them some of them time, making it worse the rest of the time, but knowing he has one semestre to go before seeing them is tiding him over until the summer. "Looking forward to it."_

_Legolas' smirk softened into an understanding smile. "It's difficult to be away from family," he said. "I hope I'll get to meet them someday."_

_Bard wanted to ask why he hoped that but then he remembered that he and Thranduil were friends and if Legolas was going to be around more---there was something about the use of the word 'unexpected' in reference to his time at home that had him wondering about the average length of a dancer's career._

_"I'm sure you will," Bard said with what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "They'll be here for a couple of months, at least. And they're always sneaking into the shop."_

_"They don't vape?"_

_"Sigrid likes tasting the flavours," Bard admitted. "But, she's not vaping anything with nicotine in it. Your dad mixes little five milimetre vials just for her, so she can sample the latest. She says she's sixteen, she drinks coffee, what's one more stimulant---and wasn't I smoking at fifteen?---but I don't like the idea of her starting a habit, no matter how safe."_

_"And your other children?"_

_"Bain's fourteen and Tilda's ten," Bard said. He chuckled. "Hardly the right age for this. Kids under eighteen aren't allowed in the shop, full-stop. But, family's an exception."_

_"Bard, try this, right now, and tell me if you taste---"_

_Both Bard and Legolas turned towards the door. They hadn't heard it open, but Thranduil's deep voice, full of excitement, caught their attention. Thranduil stopped talking, eyes wide and eyebrows lifted high, as his fast and smooth walk grinded to a halt._

_"Legolas," Thranduil murmured. Bard watched him give himself a little shake before he rushed across the room. "What---I thought---"_

_"The director suggested I take some time and decide what my priorities are," Legolas mumbled as he looked down at his toes._

_Thranduil looked cross for a moment, but Bard watched the expression disappear into a gentle, hesitant smile. "You should have told him if the solo was of the lead role in Robin Hood, if you got to fire arrows about as you danced, then there would be no question of where your priorities are placed," he said, his voice soft but full of fatherly humour._

_Bard had heard the stories, of Thranduil making costumes and targets so Legolas could choreograph his own Robin Hood tale, and he had to smother a chuckle so as to not detract from their moment together. But, when Legolas looked up, grinning and wiping at the corners of his eyes, he smiled and didn't bother hiding it from the others._

_"Want to take a look at the studio?" Thranduil asked. "It doesn't open until three-thirty, but the barre will be free."_

_Legolas nodded. Thranduil leaned in and kissed his son's forehead. After tucking an errant strand of long blond hair behind Legolas' ear, Thranduil set the bottle of juice down on the counter._

_"I'll get your work station," Bard said. "Go dance or whatever."_

_"Or whatever," Thranduil said, rolling his eyes and smiling. "Taste that. I will ask your opinion tomorrow."_

_Bard gave Thranduil a sloppy salute. "Yes, sir."_

&&&&&&

"And streehhh-tch..." Thranduil said, raising his arms over his head and watching the group of seven year olds mimic his movements, dramatic acting performance included.

He hadn't seen Bard yet, so he felt like he could lean against the doorframe and observe without being observed in return. He smiled. When he heard Legolas' voice, soft and muffled behind him, he turned his smile to Thranduil's son. 

Legolas smiled and waved before turning back to his phone call. 

"No, Ada hasn't figured it out yet," he said. "And he probably won't before you get back for break, Sig. So don't worry. You'll be able to give him your notes. Oh---he said he does have new samples for you to try." 

"And I have a mod I want her to test," Bard said after turning away from Thranduil's class, after realising Legolas was talking to his eldest daughter. "I made it myself. Just need someone to put it through its paces." 

Legolas murmured a bit more into the phone, describing the device Bard had milled and soldered together. Bard heard her response, muffled and distorted by distance and the phone's speaker; it sounded positive, happy even, and he found himself looking forward to her visit even more. She'd decided to spend her spring break from college in Dale; her brother and sister wouldn't be with her since they were still in grade school, but they'd all move in with him over the summer months as they usually did. 

"Bard!" 

Bard looked away from Legolas' phone, turned his focus from Sigrid's tinny responses, and found Thranduil leaning into the foyer. He smiled. "Running late again?" he asked, knowing how Thranduil's schedule of classes worked---or didn't. "I can go grab our food and---" 

"Nuh uh, come here," Thranduil interrupted. He pointed at Bard's boots. "Take off those beasts and come in." 

"Why?" 

"Because I told my class that anyone can learn to dance, and they don't believe me," Thranduil said. He pulled the sticks free from his hair, sending curtains of silvery blond over his shoulders and down his back. Playing fair was something Thranduil rarely did; Bard usually didn't mind but when he was the focus of Thranduil's strategies he felt differently about it all. Thranduil poked him with one of the sticks, grabbing his attention again. "You are going to go in there and dance." 

"I'm really not," Bard said. 

Thranduil grinned. "You really are." 

"I can't dance, Thran." 

"I will teach you." 

Bard frowned. "In front of a group of seven year olds?" 

"Yes, it will prove my point and entertain us all," Thranduil replied. He smiled. "Bard, it's going to be fine. I promise." 

He knew he should protest more---or just run away---but he was already toeing out of his boots and shrugging out of his coat. The smile Thranduil gave him as they both realised he was giving in softened the blow he knew his self-esteem would take when he tried to follow Thranduil's lead in front of a bunch of giggling children. 

When Thranduil's arm wrapped around his, securing Bard in his close proximity, he knew he was going to go through with whatever Thranduil asked him to do.

&&&&&&

_"What do you think of these?" Thranduil asked._

_Bard smiled. In front of him, there were all sorts of labels. The imagery in each design wasn't anything special, plain but based on the flavour profiles Thranduil was refining; they were meant to be examples of the fonts and label materials that they could go with for Thranduil's juice company._

_"They look good. You picked---wait, you created these?" Bard said._

_Thranduil nodded a little. "I did. Do you think they're professional enough?"_

_"I do," Bard agreed. "I like that you're keeping to the letter of the law, nothing too bright or cartoon-ish---"_

_He stopped talking as soon as he heard Thranduil's sniff. He didn't know the other man all that well, but he could already recognise (many of) Thranduil's outward signs of displeasure and dissatisfaction. Unsure if a smile would make things worse, Bard rubbed his hand over his face and tried to keep his reaction hidden._

_"I created them this way because they should be elegant. Understated," Thranduil said. "Anyone who needs a cartoon character to vape juice probably doesn't have a palate refined enough for---"_

_"I am really sorry I said that," Bard interrupted, reaching out to squeeze Thranduil's shoulder. "You're right. There are enough ridiculous labels and too-sweet flavours out there. And you're doing something different---the label should reflect that."_

_"Exactly," Thranduil said, nodding._

_Bard patted Thranduil's shoulder before moving closer to the table and inspecting the labels. "They're great. I love the ones that look like they're printed on brown paper," he said after a few minutes of examining them. "But, I love the darker brown, too. Maybe do a gradient? Lighter flavours in lighter colour, darker or richer flavours in the darker colour?"_

_"That could work," Thranduil admitted. "I hadn't considered that... I was too busy trying to decide between the colours."_

_"I like the text," Bard added. "The thin, white print? Looks like script, but it's not."_

_"Me, too," Thranduil agreed._

_"So, we're really doing this, huh?"_

_"Yes, Bard," Thranduil said quietly. "Thank you, for offering to be my partner in this endeavor."_

_"Hey, you won me over the instant you had me try your marshmallow square recipe," Bard said. "I'd been looking for a way to expand the business for a while, but juice making isn't one of my strengths so I'd never considered it before. You're good at this. I'd be an idiot not to give it a try."_

_"If it doesn't---"_

_"We'll worry about it then," Bard said. "It didn't cost much to get the back room up to code, and we have a year to sell the juices before they've steeped too long. If they sell, great. If not, we'll use 'em ourselves and give them away to customers. The supplies weren't cheap, but they weren't ridiculously expensive, either, because you did most of your research with your own supplies at home. So, if they don't sell, you can rent the space to build custom recipes for vapers online, or you can try to teach or... or we'll figure it out."_

_Thranduil's head tilted as he studied Bard. After a pregnant pause, full of thoughts and observations (at least from Bard's side), he spoke._

_"You're really not worried."_

_Bard smiled and shook his head. "I'm really not. We've got the ten millilitre bottles so we have free samples to give to customers and then we'll stock the shelves with the thirty mills," he said. "And we'll go from there." He grinned. "Just as soon as we figure out what labels to print."_

_Thranduil nodded. Then, he said, "You don't think it will be too confusing to have the different colours?"_

_"Nope. If anything, it'll make it easier to identify flavours, right? Fluffy creams and light fruits, versus heavy bakeries and dark fruits?" Bard suggested. "Or however you want to do it," he added._

_"I like your suggestion," Thranduil murmured._

_"Do you want to take the label design to a graphic design firm? Even just to have them look at it?" Bard asked. "There's a guy in Erebor doing work for---"_

_Thranduil made a brief, deep noise in his throat. It sounded almost like a growl. "I will not be taking my work to Erebor."_

_"Alright. You're the boss."_

&&&&&&

When the door opened, Bard looked up. He'd been fiddling with some wire, building a coil for his atomizer, but he set it aside when he saw who was coming into his shop.

"Mr. Bowman." 

"Mr. Oakenshield," Bard said, hoping his tone was more pleasant than his mood. "What can I do for you?" 

Thorin was a competitor---of sorts. He didn't run a vape shop, but one of his businesses owned five in the communities between Erebor and Dale. Bard had been dealing with him ever since he set up his shop. At first, he wanted to block Bard from building his business. He tried getting Bard into trouble---certain a new shop owner wasn't following all of the legal procedures when it came to selling personal vaporizers---and then he tried to convince Bard to sell his business to the Oakenshield banner. Any time Bard put an item up for sale, Thorin's shops priced it lower. So far, the competition wasn't a problem; Bard's customers gave great word of mouth and Bard's own policy of repairing devices and contraptions or replacing them helped keep business and create new business. 

Bard didn't trust Thorin, but he was curious as to what brought him to Bard's shop. 

"I've been hearing something about a juice line you're selling," Thorin said. "Wondered if you could give me the distributor information." 

Without even glancing towards Thranduil's room to see if the man was lurking in the doorway, Bard shook his head. "I can check with my contact and ask if I can give that out, though," he added. 

"You think they'll be pleased with you for keeping them from doing business?" Thorin asked. 

"I think they're satisfied with the business they're doing," Bard replied. "And when they're ready to expand, they'll have my full support." 

With his eyes narrowed, Thorin looked around the shop. He looked dangerous, his eyes glittering as he glanced from one shelf to another. Bard watched as he approached the shelf where Thranduil's juice was located. Setting his work down, Bard rounded the counter. He hovered as Thorin browsed. He picked up a bottle, examining it; he moved to open it, but Bard stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm. 

"I can't let you open it here," Bard said. "You can buy some, if you want." 

Thorin huffed. "I can't believe you won't tell me who produces this." 

"They do a lot more than produce it," Bard said. "It's not some cheap clone you can stick a fancy label on. It's better than that." 

Thorin glared at him and set down the bottle with a bit more force than necessary. "I will get this line in my shops, Bard," he said. "What my customers want, they get." 

"I bet," Bard said, although his tone was more sarcastic than he'd planned it to be. 

After Thorin stomped out of his shop, grumbling under his breath about what a waste of a trip to Dale his afternoon had been, Bard saw Thranduil leaning in his doorway. 

"Thank you," Thranduil murmured. 

"I didn't want to overstep, but---" 

"I do not want that man selling my product," Thranduil interrupted. He walked across the room, slipping into his coat. "I'm going to go home. I want to make sure all my paperwork's in order. I suspect that won't be the last we see of him." 

Bard opened his mouth to respond---to assure Thranduil that their paperwork, the legal proceedings, everything they'd done had been up to snuff---but Thranduil stopped at his side with no more than a few inches between them. It was hard to think straight when Thranduil was so close. 

Putting his hand on Bard's shoulder, Thranduil leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," he murmured. "I'll see you tomorrow, yes?" 

Bard nodded. Thranduil smiled, squeezed his shoulder, and then slipped past him.

&&&&&&

_"What are you doing?"_

_Bard turned and grinned. Thranduil's brow was furrowed and his lips were pursed as he looked around the small room, but whatever displeasure he was expressing did nothing to diminish the pleasure Bard was feeling. He loved breaking things down and building them back up again. The kitchen in his little shop had been barely used, only to toast the odd slice of bread when Bard didn't have time to make breakfast at home or find lunch down the street; he liked the idea of giving the room new purpose, in addition to trying to expand his own little empire in Dale by bringing in someone to make an exclusive line of juice._

_"Fixing things!" Bard exclaimed. "Why? What does it look like?"_

_"Like you're making a mess for no good reason," Thranduil said. "I... I brought the paperwork. My lawyer says it looks fine. And I brought a list of materials and ingredients---"_

_Bard finished tying his hair back into another messy bun---the elastic he was using was too stretched out, too loose for holding his hair back for more than a half an hour of activity---and he looked down from his perch on the step stool._

_"Sounds good. Wanna go over your list with me while I work?" Bard asked. "Don't want to get my dirty paws all over it."_

_Thranduil smiled and nodded, coming into the room a bit more. He set the envelope of legal papers on a relatively tidy box marked "Beakers and Bottles" and then held up his three-page-long list. "Well, I guess I can scratch beakers off the list," he said, smiling._

_"Oh! Right!" Bard said. "The college in Laketown was selling some of its old equipment. I ran it all through my dishwasher, sterilized it... figured it might do for basic mixing. At least until you figure out what you need for larger quantities."_

_"Sounds good," Thranduil agreed._

_"Alright. So PG and VG and liquid nicotine, I'm guessing," Bard said. "Do you have preferred sources for those?"_

_"One I've dealt with, they do wholesale, so I'd be comfortable buying from them," Thranduil said, "but I'm not against shopping around."_

_"We can go with yours," Bard said. "I'm assuming the prices are pretty much the same, and if you have a good nicotine source, that makes it worth it. Some of 'em are too peppery or too dark."_

_Thranduil nodded in agreement. "I like the solution I've been mixing with. So far, anyway."_

_Bard grinned as he unscrewed one of the other light fixtures. "Have you decided what colour you want the kitchen?" he asked. "I'll get started painting it after I do the ceiling."_

_When he didn't hear a response, he glanced down. Thranduil was staring at him again; his features weren't marred by confusion or disdain, but there was a light flush on his cheeks._

_"Thran?"_

_"I... what?"_

_"Colours. For the room?" Bard prompted him. "Any ideas?"_

_Thranduil shook his head, tucked his long hair behind his ears. "Ah... whatever you prefer or have on hand. It's not like I'll be living in this room," he said before slipping out of the room._

&&&&&&

Bard woke up and stumbled outside to get the paper---only to knock over a small package.

When he unwrapped it, he saw a dropper bottle full of slightly-tinted liquid and a note written in Thranduil's spidery scrawl. 

_"I think I've got it this time. Give it a try. If you make it past two hours, I'll consider it a win and then I'm claiming my prize."_

Grinning, Bard took the package and his paper inside. The newspaper went on the kitchen table; he took the small bottle of juice to the counter where he kept a mod and atomizer. He sniffed the liquid before dripping it down into the device, onto the coils, and he sighed happily.

Vanilla. Cream. Pistachio? 

Simple, but complex. 

Bard was curious and eager to try it. 

The first cloud was amazing, all floofy and sweet with a hint of nuttiness underneath everything. On the second cloud, Bard detected a hint of spice under the sweet creaminess of the mixture. He vaped Thranduil's latest recipe all through his morning routine---it went with coffee, it wasn't gross after brushing his teeth---and it wasn't until he was halfway to work that he realised what it reminded him of most. 

It wasn't a dessert. It was Thranduil.

&&&&&&

_Bard finished arguing with his wife---soon to be ex-wife, all because she didn't think it was seemly for him to run a vape shop, though he suspected it was more than that---and shoved his phone into his vest pocket as he slid out of his truck._

_"Finally!"_

_A tall man with a ponytail of loooong blond hair jumped up from the bench under the window. He was stalking towards Bard with the grace of a tense panther._

_"Good morning?" Bard tried._

_"I have been waiting here for twenty minutes!" the man said. "Your sign said you'd be open at nine!"_

_"Sorry about that," Bard said. "I... I guess I had a sort of family emergency. I'm still working the kinks out---out of running this place on my own, I mean. How can I help you?"_

_"I need juice," the man said. "I have a class to teach and it's college students and---"_

_"You teach?" Bard said as he found his keys and moved to the front door. "School or... a craft? A sport?"_

_"Dance," he said with a sniff. "I teach ballet."_

_Bard smiled. "My daughters used to take classes. Had the grace of an elephant, between the two of them, but they loved it."_

_"Enjoyment is more important than talent."_

_"Yeah, it is," Bard said. "I've never seen you around here. Did you just move to Dale?"_

_"I live in Mirkwood. I teach in Dale. I... I buy supplies online," the new man admitted. "But, I miscalculated and my order won't get in until next week and even then, I'd have to mix a new recipe and---and---it would be a while before I have juice to vape."_

_"Well, c'mon in, and let's see if we can find you something," Bard said. He unlocked and opened the door before waving his potential new customer inside. "Have you been making your own juice for long?"_

_"About a year," the blond said. "I don't like a lot of the flavour profiles on the market. Too much sweetener."_

_Bard nodded. He understood that. So many companies made inferior products, but they sold well because of packaging and over-the-top sweetness. "Well, I try to keep the better ones on my shelves," he said. "But, it's hard. Gotta stock some of the trendy flavours to keep customers coming in."_

_The blond nodded. He moved past Bard and went to the shelves of juice bottles. Bard watched as his face scrunched up in a scowl, his displeasure evident; when he got to the end of the shelving, though, he came away with two flavours. Bard smiled when he saw the bottles---a blueberry cream and a grapefruit-and-melon mix in a medium-strength of nicotine---and told him those were two he often vaped._

_"I don't have an ADV, but those two are on my list of favourites," he said._

_"You don't have a juice you can vape all day?" the new customer asked._

_Bard shook his head as he turned on his register computer. "Nah," he explained, "I get sick of everything after about an hour. I'm always re-wicking and switching flavours. I think you'll like those, though."_

_"What sort of flavours do you like?"_

_Bard shrugged. "All of them. I'm not wild about tobacco, but if I'm stuck, or drinking whiskey... sometimes." He smiled as an idea fluttered through his mind, not completely formed, but still bright and shiny and potentially valuable. "Do you mix for others or just yourself?"_

_"Just myself."_

_"Have you ever considered starting your own line?" Bard asked._

_"I... no. You haven't even tasted anything I've---you don't even know my name, and you're asking... what exactly?"_

_With a grin, Bard scanned the two bottles his new customer selected. "This is my business. Right now, I'm the only vape shop in Dale and I kind of like it that way," he said. "You seem to have a realistic view of the juice market---or part of it, anyway---and you've been vaping what you mix yourself for a year so you can't be awful at it. If you're ever interested in expanding your hobby into a business of your own, I'd be interested in giving you a shot."_

_The customer's silvery eyes widened. "Seriously?"_

_"I will eventually need a name to work with," Bard said, "but, yeah, pretty serious. Why don't you give me a few samples the next time you've made some stuff, and we'll go from there?"_

_"A... Thranduil. I'm Thranduil."_

_Bard held out his hand. "I'm Bard."_

_They shook hands. A minute later, Thranduil was paying Bard for his juice and asking questions about what sort of flavours he was interested in selling. Twenty minutes passed before Thranduil realised he was going to be late for his class. He left in a flurry of movement, but not before calling over his shoulder that he'd be back with more questions._

&&&&&&

Thranduil smiled when Bard peeked into his room and cleared his throat.

"Well?" he asked, not looking up from the scale as he dripped a flavour concentrate into a beaker. "How was it?" 

"I'm not sick of it yet," Bard said, smiling back at him. "Vaped it all morning." 

"Told you I'd figure it out," Thranduil murmured. He set down the bottle and reached for another. "I'm making a large batch to steep now, so you better still like it a month from now." 

Bard nodded. He took a seat at the metal table, on Thranduil's left side. "Are you going to add it to the lineup?" he asked quietly. "It's good. It should be." 

"Nope," Thranduil said, shaking his head slightly. 

"But---" 

"It's just for you." 

Thranduil looked up after dropping a little of whatever flavouring he was holding into the mixture. Bard smiled, even though he knew his cheeks were a little more flushed than he'd like them to be. He figured, after so much time with Thranduil as a friend and business partner, he was in a safe space and could survive being a little vulnerable. 

"Well, that's a shame because I've been working on a name for it," Bard said. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah," Bard said, watching Thranduil return to his work. "Bowman's Heart. Bowman's Desire. Bowman's Dream. Something like that." 

Thranduil set down the bottle he was holding and turned off the scale. Then, so slowly that Bard knew he was trying to rein in his nerves (because he knew all the ways Thranduil moved and the reasons behind each one), Thranduil turned to face him. 

"You know what this reminds me of," Bard said. When Thranduil nodded, his own face flushing, Bard smiled. "I won't ever get sick of it. Just... in case you're wondering." 

"I... good. I won't ever get sick of making it." 

Bard grinned. He leaned over and kissed Thranduil on his cheek, only pulling away after nuzzling his lips against Thranduil's temple. The scent of creamy vanilla wafted up from Thranduil's skin; Bard closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. When Thranduil followed him, rising out of his chair and settling himself in Bard's lap, Bard was sure nothing had ever felt as good or as grounding as that comfortable weight did. 

"Dinner tonight?" Thranduil asked. 

"We have dinner almost every night," Bard reminded him. 

"Date food, Bard." 

"Greasy pizza and beer?" Bard asked. 

Thranduil rubbed his cheeks with both of his hands. "You're lucky you're so handsome," Thranduil murmured. "That's hardly romantic food." 

"It is if it's something you don't get to enjoy often," Bard insisted. "Besides, who needs romantic food? I'll light a few candles, we can cuddle on the couch, listen to one of your favourite records... and pig out." 

Thranduil's smile was soft. "It's a date," he murmured. "I'll bring the pizza if you supply the beer." 

"It's a date," Bard agreed, grinning back up at Thranduil.

THE END!


End file.
